


Things to do on a Rainy Day

by vintage1983



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Come Sharing, F/F, F/M, Filthy, Fisting, Girls Kissing, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Light BDSM, Mild S&M, Multi, Obergruppenfuhrer, Obergruppenfuhrer sex- if you are all good, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-24 00:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20349601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintage1983/pseuds/vintage1983
Summary: Thelma and Nicole meet at a hotel to spend some time together when they are caught by the Obergruppenfuhrer himself, John Smith.Shameless smut.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first MitHC fic. There is another chapter I can share if people wish to read it. 
> 
> The final series approaches. Don't sink my ship and don't bury my gays, thanks in advance for those things. 
> 
> Even if you are super straight, give it a try, you never know you might like it...
> 
> Comments, as always are welcomed and adored.

She waited impatiently. Endless waiting had brought her here and now the hands crawled around the face of the clock at an unhurried pace. Time did not acknowledge her own urgency. Thelma was early and Nicole was late. Punctuality meant little to her most of the time, if anything it embodied the Germanic efficiency of the Reich, it virtually offended her. Fashionable lateness though frowned upon still held its charm. Lateness in this instance might mean not at all, it might mean never, it might mean worse.

Perhaps she shouldn’t be here. Perhaps she shouldn’t have allowed this to happen at all, but it was all too tempting, and delicious, and satisfying. Opportunities were few and far between. They were not free. Nobody was free in the GNR. Especially not women. The stakes were high, but Thelma took the bet for the sake of feeling alive She had carved out a good life for herself in many ways. Her arrangement with her husband suited them both. It allowed them the masquerade of married life that kept them safe and the freedom to be themselves behind closed doors. Achieving that had been no easy task. Nicole had arrived from Germany and their paths had collided. Thelma wanted her the first moment she saw her. It didn’t take long, but she had to be certain. _Lebensborn_ and responsible for propaganda, Thelma’s initial caution faded quickly. It was there; the spark, the look, in those wide blue eyes. Nicole was more accustomed to freedom. It seemed the great and good in Berlin were left to their own devices. Nicole had another advantage, she pleased men and was not averse to doing so. Thelma could, but it had to be the right man.

They hadn’t fought about it, but Thelma had questioned Nicole about what she did and what it meant for them.

“Do you ever feel guilty?”

“About what?” Nicole looked puzzled. Guilt was an emotion she rarely gave in to. Life was too short and fleeting to cling on to those feelings.

“What you do.”

Still Nicole looked unsure why she should.

“Propaganda, what you do makes us, what we are, less than human. It tells the world we are wrong.”

“It’s no different to what you do.”

“My column is hardly in the same league, honey.”

“No, but you influence people. You write what you should.”

“I guess so.”

Thelma flicked on the lamps, closed the heavy drapes on the grey sky and the raindrops hammering against the glass.

Studying her surroundings, she took comfort in the now other worldly appearance of the room. The lower floors of the New Yorker had retained their Deco excesses. While the floors above had been refurbished in the more functional and clean-lined brand of opulence that appealed to the great and good of the day, the rooms beneath were untouched relics of the roaring twenties, survivors of the Great Depression and the War, clinging on to their existence by a thread in the brave new world of the GNR. No dignitary of any significance would accept a room so close to the ground, so the manager’s act of preservation of another time passed by without comment. Though unchanged, the rooms were well cared for and showed little signs of wear and tear. Thelma imagined all the people who had spent the night here. Flapper girls, mourning brokers seeking solace from the crash, tourists and jazz musicians. Ancient history now. She sighed mournfully. She would have adored that world. Nicole would have adored it too. It was gone and lost forever now.

It wasn’t the only act of rebellion that took place on those lower stories. In some circles it was a well-known secret that a blind eye would be turned to very short-term occupancy by those who couldn’t risk a longer stay. Thelma and Nicole could not risk a longer stay, but for now she felt as safe as she could within the confines of burr walnut, ornate fixtures and the Egyptian motifs that had captured the world from the day Howard Carter first opened Tutankhamun’s tomb and revealed its secrets. The room itself was almost a mausoleum, preserved by silence, hidden in plain sight.

There was a knock at the door. One. Then a pause. Two. Then a pause. Should the phone ring like that she knew that was the signal to vacate and at least escape was perhaps more likely from a lower floor location. Two flights of stairs and you could be in the street. Where you went after that was your own problem. The hotel would deny all knowledge of what went on, and you would disappear for ‘re-education’ whatever that meant, or worse. She waited. The third knock came.

Thelma opened the door tentatively. A warm wave of relief washed over her and Nicole stepped inside, her hair slick and darkened by the rain. The door had barely clicked closed and her mouth was on Thelma’s, hard, forceful as much an expression of reassurance and comfort as anything else, then tenderness and warmth as soft lips parted, and their tongues found each other. There was that tightening ache, the hunger, the want, the need that brought them here, the erotic thrill that made the risk seem worthwhile, two bodies melting into one another. She could feel the cold and damp of the weather on Nicole’s coat and her hands found their way to the warmth beneath that outer layer and pushed it from her shoulders. The gloom of outside was not welcome within. Finally, the kiss broke and a deep sigh escaped her lips.

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I know I’m sorry, I got held up. I had to…”

Thelma silenced her with brush of her lips.

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m here and you’re here and we won’t be disturbed.”

Nicole bit lip her wickedly; the action was met with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“What do you suggest we do to pass the time then?”

The wordless answer came. Fingers raked into Nicole’s hair and greedy, wet kisses worked their way from her lips down the sensitive flesh of her neck. They clawed at each other’s clothes insistently. All of that waiting was building faster now, not pouring out, but coiling tighter inside. That slow burning knot of want that had slowly grown and smouldered within her for what seemed like an eternity was reaching its most intense. Nicole’s shaking fingers gripped at the satin fabric of Thelma’s blouse and tugged it free from her skirt. They barely parted, only enough to drag it over her head and discard it. They undressed each other in proficient frenzy, both certain and skilled at removing clothing so familiar to one another, until all vestments of social respectability lay in a crumpled heap on the plush carpet and they stood only in the expensive satin and lace that lay beneath.

Thelma was confused as she stepped away and revealed thick, gloppy tears forming in Nicole’s already glassy eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. You are…so very beautiful. Perfect. I want to take a picture, and frame it, and keep it with me always, but I can’t.”

She brushed her thumb against her temple.

“You can. In there.”

They could wait no longer. Lust took hold of them both and they tumbled onto the bed. Thelma slid her camisole over her head only to find her wrists being grabbed pinned firmly to the bed.

“Mine,” Nicole growled.

Thelma nodded obediently.

“You’re not going anywhere until you come so much you beg me to stop.”

“I’m not putting up a fight.”

Her head bowed and Thelma closed her eyes and succumbed to the sensation of delicate laps of her warm, wet tongue against an already hardened nipple. It was gentle, done with reverence. Thelma’s sighs were soft, until a sharp pinch at the other extracted a sharp moan. Another, harder this time. She moaned again.

“You like that?”

“You know I do.”

“Shall I do it again?”

“Yes.”

“Manners,” she said, grinning wickedly.

“Please,” Thelma whispered.

“Sorry? I didn’t catch that. Say it again.”

“Please.”

“No, I still didn’t hear you.”

“Please, now Nicole, please.”

“Begging already?”

Thelma pouted and Nicole relented. This time her mouth soothed and sucked where she had pinched, while she rolled the other teasingly between her finger and thumb. It was still soft, Thelma relaxed and waited. The sharp nip of her teeth made her hips buck. She chuckled and continued, tugging, biting, teeth, fingers nails and Thelma cried for more, turning to liquid beneath her, soaked and throbbing for attention. She was barely coherent, sobbing with need as Nicole shed her own underwear and then slid down Thelma’s dampened knickers millimetre by millimetre. She looked up at her, smirking and chewing at her lower lip.

“Tease,” Thelma rasped.

“Oh, but you love it so. Where’s the fun in hurrying?”

Nicole licked and nibbled at Thelma’s thigh. It was met with a soft moan of need. She inched further, kissing a trail as she went and leaving faint traces of red lipstick where her lips had been.

Thelma let out a desperate groan as her underwear finally reached her ankles and she kicked them away. Her legs fell open and they kissed again, Nicole’s knee slid between them and she straddled her thigh. She could feel the dripping heat of her against her skin. Thelma pressed hard and ground against her knee searching for friction against her throbbing clit.

She gasped at the contact, her body crying out to be touched and satisfied. It was rough and urgent, their hips rocking and bucking, searching for each other and finding.

Nicole dipped her head down, her wet and messy kisses finding a rhythm with the movement of her body against Thelma’s. She moaned into her mouth as Thelma found and twisted at her taut and swollen nipple, the shock sending a jolt of electricity through her, directly to the dripping heat between her thighs. She cried out. Perhaps she should try and contain the sound, but it was too good, too achingly, deliciously good and she couldn’t help it.

“I want you. I need you. I need to fuck you. I need to now,” she whispered, her own breath hitched and broken.

“I want you…”

They were silenced.

The door burst open with a loud, unceremonious clatter. Both women scrambled and dragged at the tightly tucked hotel sheets. It was too late. A familiar, dark haired, uniformed figure filled the doorway. Clinging tightly to each other, their hearts lunging into their throats. Lust evaporated into sheer terror. He closed the door behind him purposefully with a soft click. Every movement was unhurried, measured and considered. There was silence for what seemed like an eternity, save the thumping of two frightened heartbeats. 

He broke the silence.

“Ladies.” 

“Obergruppenführer,” Nicole replied hoarsely.

His eyes narrowed. He was already removing his gloves, tugging sharply at each finger, his gaze moving between what he was doing and Thelma and Nicole. The leather-clad figure responded calmly and coldly. “I think,” he paused purposefully, “we have something serious to discuss.”

That was it. Game over. They knew the risks, understood what the consequences could be if they were found. Nicole’s fingers dug into Thelma’s arm so hard under other circumstances she may have cried out in pain, instead she was numb and silent. They refused to cry, or plead, or wail. Their fate was their fate. What’s done is done. There was no point, there was no room for clemency in the machine of the state.

Thelma sighed deeply. All those years, she had done what she needed to do in order to stay alive and safe. Thelma played the game. She had married and flattered and flirted. Her survival instinct had been strong.

Then they saw it.

They both saw it and a second’s glance at each other confirmed it. Though he tried to hide it, John Smith allowed his eyes to skim over the two naked women knotted together on the bed before him and there it was. The tell-tale bob in his throat as he swallowed. The most fleeting of flickers of his tongue over his lips as if his mouth were starting to dry.

They both saw it and it what they saw was hope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments and kudos, it is very much appreciated.   
Unadulterated, unapologetic hot filth. 
> 
> On a vaguely serious note I again urge TPTB not to sink my ship or bury my gays. DON'T DO THAT TO ME!!!!  
Feel free to join me on Twitter @Vintage1983V for high brow chat and gratuitous thirsting!
> 
> This is a custard cream chapter, moist, creamy goodness sandwiched between two adorable, sweet biscuits.
> 
> Thank you for reading, if 'sexual swear words' (a throw back for anyone who ever rented a VHS in the UK and remembers that warning at the start) offend you, step away now.   
If not, close the door, be alone and enjoy my dears!!!
> 
> For my number 1 ho x

John Smith removed his coat and set it down neatly and precisely on the dresser. Each movement was considered and deliberately slow; he understood how to make people feel uneasy and nervous. He looked odd; the personification of the immaculate functionality of the GNR set against the backdrop of a room so extravagant, Jay Gatsby may have considered it excessive. There was a silent exchange as he turned away; in a wordless conversation it was instantly and unquestioningly understood what was going to happen. The moral complications of the Obergruppenführer’s role in proceedings were irrelevant now. Besides, forbidden fruit was always the most delicious and it hadn’t been beneath either of them to pass comment on his more than easy on the eye appearance.

He took a seat in a large armchair at the side of the bed, knotting his fingers together and resting his chin on them. John looked pensive for a moment, contemplating his words. Neither Nicole nor Thelma dared speak. There was hope, nothing was a certainty. A wrong word and the spell may be broken. Perhaps it was a double bluff. John was more than capable of it.

“It has come to my attention, that the two have you have engaged in what is considered by the GNR, indeed by the Führer himself, to be acts of…_perversion._”

It hung on his lips. He liked it.

“The evidence speaks for itself. Don’t you agree?”

“How did you find out?” Nicole said without hesitation. Her boldness wouldn’t normally surprise Thelma. Today it seemed reckless.

“You were somewhat careless, during your indulgences, with your use of the telephone.”

It was true. Physically being together, in the same space was not always possible. Thelma tried not to, but in the quiet and the dark it was too much to resist. Need took over. She would whisper, while her husband slept elsewhere in the house, in the dead of night. He wouldn’t have cared, but she always believed the less they knew about each other’s lives the better. It was safer that way.

“Hello, you,” Thelma rasped.

“Hello you too.”

“I need you; I miss you. I’m hurting for you.”

“This is dangerous, you know it is.”

“I know. I know it is, but I need you. And I know you like it, you live for it, Nicole. I know you do. Are you wet for me?”

There was a pause, silent, save the faint crackle of the line and soft but laboured breath.

“Yes,” Nicole whimpered finally.

Every word drove lust until fingers greedily working in and out, panting and sighing down the line as one or the other voiced every want and need until they came. It occurred to Thelma that phones were monitored and tapped. Neither of them believed they were persons of interest, both respected mouthpieces of the state, sure there were more pressing individuals to investigate it seemed safe. As they said their goodnights in hushed tones and scurried back to bed as if nothing had happened Thelma had contented herself that nobody had any cause to be listening.

They were.

Clearly John Smith had heard every word.

He shuffled in his seat. Nicole imagined he was mentally replaying those conversations. She found herself wondering if it had made him hard, if he had touched himself at thought of it. It excited her. Under the circumstances it probably shouldn’t, nevertheless it turned her on. A sideways glance that was met with a wink confirmed she was not alone in her thoughts.

“So, what will you do with us?” Nicole asked. It was purposeful and flirtatious. She pouted and twirled her hair between her fingers. It was a polished routine. Nicole knew how to play men.

He considered it a moment.

“Perhaps,” he said firmly, “in the interests of gaining a full insight into these behaviours, I should see the extent of these perversions for myself.”

Now Thelma allowed herself to smile.

“So, you want us to show you?” she said with a raised eyebrow of feigned shock. She had no doubt in her mind, John Smith had listened and imagined. She pictured him, locking the door in the heart of high command, in full uniform, taking his stiff cock in his hand, replaying the sound of them coming for each other as he came in sharp jerks into his own hand. It amused her to imagine he had shot so hard it dripped onto those black, polished boots of his.

Nicole pouted and stretched out on the bed, daring him to say more.

“Yes. I want you to show me.”

They made a formidable team and took turns provoking him.

“You want to…watch us, two women, touching and licking and coming for each other.”

“Yes.”

This time there was a rasp as the word caught in his throat. Thelma couldn’t resist.

“Then if that’s what the Obergruppenführer wants, who are we to say no.”

The balance of power in the room had significantly shifted. They were playing with him and they could. He visibly squirmed in his seat. Oh, he really did want this badly.

Thelma drew herself up onto her knees; Nicole followed suit. They both looked at him. His eyes were dark and burning as he watched their tongues teasing against the other, slow and languid, open mouthed and designed to torment and suggest. His gaze followed nimble fingers finding nipples, tugging and teasing as they had before he arrived. Harder, sharper until Nicole let out a throaty growl.

“Are you always that rough with one another?” he asked. He seemed genuinely curious.

“Oh, she loves that,” Thelma said with a smirk and dipped her head to bite down hard. “It makes her, so, fucking wet.”

“You have filthy mouth.”

“It gets filthier.”

Nicole sucked slowly on her forefinger and ran it slowly over Thelma’s dripping slit before returning it to her mouth. She looked at him, wide-eyed and ran her tongue over the sticky digit then sucked it, slowly drawing it out until it left her mouth with a gentle popping sound. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

He shuffled again and leant forward in his seat and cleared his throat. John’s composure was slowly breaking.

“Do you like that? The taste of it?” he asked.

“Mmmm,” she groaned and licked her lips.

John watched every movement intensely.

Her fingers returned to the damp heat between Thelma’s thighs, this time working in and out, slow and deep, twisting and filling her, then faster and harder until she was writhing and bucking against her hand, searching for more. They found it hard not to watch him trying to cling on to restraint. The tightening of his jaw, the subtle movements in his chair. They both knew he was rock hard. The thought of his cock, rigid and starting to drip and leak came to Nicole. She could have some fun with that. His mouth fell open as he watched her greedily sucking every drop of Thelma’s glistening juices from her sticky fingers. Whatever he said, the Obergruppenführer wasn’t here to arrest them. He was here for his own desires that both women had no doubt were now as urgent as their own. Still Nicole toyed with him.

“She is delicious. I want to drink every drop. Taste her, John. You want to taste her.”

Nicole extended a coated finger towards him. He leant forward, eyes closed and took it into his mouth. His tongue worked over it. Nicole swirled it around, chewing at her lip as she drew it away. John inhaled deeply.

“What does it taste of, John? What do my finger taste of?” Nicole teased and antagonised.

“Her cunt.”

“She tastes so good. Shall I taste more?”

He nodded, his eyes heavy-lidded, his jaw slack.

Thelma lay back, resting on her elbows as Nicole pushed her legs apart and her head fell between her thighs. She cried out as her mouth found her need. She lapped hungrily at her clit, circling it making it ache for more, then running her tongue slowly down the full length of her slit. Still he followed intently. By now he had given in to his own need and they watched as he took the length of his cock and leisurely stroked it.

“Is she good at that?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” Thelma moaned as she felt Nicole sucking hard on your clit. She was close.

“I want to come. I need to come. Do you want me to come?” she gasped and looked directly at John with pleading eyes.

“Does she make you come…like that?”

John gritted his teeth and huffed through his nose, tightening his grip on his hard shaft, stroking to the rhythm of Nicole’s greedy tongue.

Each whimper grew sharper and Thelma could barely manage more than a strangled, ecstatic sound as she clawed at the sheets while a skilful tongue still worked her soaked pussy. It was too late, she was coming. A hot, gushing orgasm spread through Thelma’s body. Her fingers wound into Nicole’s hair; her eyes fixed on him.

They kissed. Thelma could still taste herself on Nicole’s tongue. She was so good at that.

“I’ve seen enough,” he snapped, snatching for control of the situation.

They were unsure what would happen next.

“Bend over. On all fours. Both of you. Now.”

They complied.

“I can see you are in desperate need or re-education. Punishment, even.”

Now they knew what was coming.

“Oh yes, we are,” Thelma said, her legs still shaking and weak. 

“I can’t let that slide, but I don’t think you are beyond redemption and feel…compelled…to take it upon myself to try and correct you.”

Thelma heard a loud crack and knew the palm of his hand had smacked across Nicole’s behind. A few seconds later it was her turn. Warmth radiated through her cheek, followed by a sharp sting. She liked it, more than that she loved it. He struck them in turn. Sometimes hard, sometimes with slaps in rapid succession, sometimes he made them wait.

Nicole would cry out and it only fed Thelma’s own need.

“You need this, it is my duty. I hope you understand,” he said.

He struck them again, one hand to each, making them cry out again. The heat and sting built and subsided. As it waned, another blow would come and stoke it again.

“Yes, yes, please,” Nicole cried out, unable to help herself.

John sighed again in irritation they felt sure was exaggerated and part of the game.

“You’re not meant to be enjoying this. I can see it isn’t enough.”

There was a click of metal and the slide of leather against fabric. John was removing his belt. Nicole felt a deep throbbing ache, it was pure want.

“Miss Dormer, you are not learning at all. I feel you require something more extreme. I’m sorry to have to do this…”

“Liar,” she wailed, almost sobbing for what was to come.

Crack. The belt struck across her already rosy cheeks. Nicole cried out and squirmed.

“Hold her still,” he commanded to Thelma.

She did it, stroking at her hair, offering comfort, but knowing how much she wanted and adored this.

There was another lash of the leather against her pale flesh. Nicole winced and breathed out deeply. She could and would take it.

“Three more, Nicole.” He dragged at Thelma by the hair. “Count them for her,” he demanded.

Slap.

“One,” Thelma said. Nicole was whimpering and panting. She looked deeply into her eyes, glassy and filled with tears. Nicole nodded. Thelma knew she welcomed it, she was often reluctant to inflict the pain she knew Nicole yearned for and desired. John had no such problem.

There was another, sharp and loud against the opposite cheek.

“Two,” Thelma counted.

“Good girls, good girls both of you.”

Smack, the harsh sound of the final stroke of the belt came across both cheeks. Deep red welts were already forming. It burnt and pulsed, raw and painful but Nicole panted sharply; she adored it. She throbbed with need at the sheer sensation against her tender skin. 

They could hear his shallow breathing when he finally stopped, aroused and visceral from spanking the soft pert bottom. Pausing to admire the marks he had left behind, he softly traced his fingertips over each welt, listening to the approving mewls it extracted from her. As if suddenly disturbed from a trance, he suddenly yanked Thelma roughly by the hair.

“Tell me what you want to do to her now.”

There was a slight purr in his voice.

“I want to touch her.”

“Why?” he insisted.

“Because I know that makes her wet.”

“Then…?”

“I want to kiss her better because I know it stings and burns.”

He seemed pleased with the answer.

“Do it.”

Her fingers found Nicole’s thighs sticky as her hot juices had poured down.

“Well, is she wet?”

Thelma nodded. Nicole let out a wail as fingers brushed against her clit, then were buried inside her. She loved the feel of her tightening and gripping her inside; she adored hearing her whimper.

“Does it sting and burn? Do you need her to kiss you better?” he asked Nicole.

“Yes, please, yes.” Waves of desperate relief washed through her.

Thelma responded immediately, leaving a trail of soft kisses across her reddened cheeks. The contact against the enflamed stripes making lust spike within Nicole. Thelma couldn’t resist sinking lower, licking and lapping at her, working further up.

“There’s something else we like to lick,” Thelma said wickedly.

“Show me,” he commanded.

Thelma gently pushed her cheeks apart and teased at the tight opening with the tip of her tongue. Nicole cried her name as she probed and licked, flowering and opened. Returning a finger to her starved pussy, she pumped them in and out, one, two, three. John watched.

“More, does she want more?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Nicole wailed.

“How much… can you?”

Thelma smirked and withdrew her fingers, leaving Nicole bereft and gaping. She pushed her fingers together into a point. John observed, fascinated. She pushed again, four fingers stretching and opening her wider. Nicole pushed her hips back, pleading for more. Thelma pushed again, this time working in her thumb, pressing slowly until they were buried to the knuckle.

John licked his lips, his mouth dry and open.

“More,” Nicole cried.

Thelma pushed gently until her whole hand was buried to the wrist. John looked on in awe as Thelma worked her fist in an out and she stretched beautifully to accommodate it.

“Look at that, John, isn’t it glorious?”

She moved back and forth, twisting at the wrist, filling Nicole completely. She was keening and bucking.

“Fuck I want it all, all of it. Don’t stop, don’t stop. I’m coming, fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m coming.”

She didn’t stop until the shuddering subsided.

John Smith sighed.

“It seems punishment doesn’t work. There are other techniques I could try.”

They looked at each other wickedly.

“Like what?”

He was already undressing coolly but without dawdling. He folded each item just as neatly as his coat. Both of them watched, occasionally exchanging a smirk until he stood naked at the foot of the bed, his thick cock finally free and demanding attention. They licked their lips in a unified demonstration of want.

“Come here,” he ordered sharply.

They crawled to the end of the bed.

“Lay on your backs, both of you.”

He roughly dragged them both into position by the ankles.

They craved his cock, ached to see it buried in each other almost as much as they wanted it to be filled by it.

“Do you want it?”

“Yes,” they said in chorus.

“Beg for it. Beg for my cock.”

They pleaded. Both of them. For themselves, for each other.

“Fuck us. Fuck us both. We need your cock. Teach us a lesson.”

“Sluts, greedy sluts, both of you.”

Growling, he positioned himself between Thelma’s legs at the edge of the bed. She felt the smooth head of his cock nudging against her, then the delicious stretch as he thrust deep inside. He fucked her roughly, angrily almost. Nicole watched, leaning across to kiss her, tending to Thelma’s hardened nipples, reaching down to rub and brush at her clit. He would bury himself deep inside her, then draw back, only to slam hard into her again.

“Do you like my cock, Thelma?”

“Yes, fuck yes. I like it.”

“Do you think she will like it? She liked your fist in her, do you think she’ll like being fucked like this?”

“Yes, she’ll fucking love it.”

She felt the loss when he pulled out and did the same to Nicole, but she took pleasure in watching him stretch and fill her, seeing his hard length devoured by her hungry pussy and sliding back out glistening and drenched in the wetness that poured from her. Their fingers knotted together and a sheen of sweat formed on his brow. He drilled in and out, faster, harder, fucking her as angrily as he had Thelma. Once again, he stopped and withdrew.

“Knees, mouths, now.”

They were there, greedy and expectant, wet tongues running up and down the length of his cock, still tasting of each other. They took turns, taking him deep into their mouths. Nicole adored the feel and sight of his thick cock disappearing into a hungry open mouth. She took him deeper, as far as she could go, until she felt him hit the back of her throat. It was there, the first delicious drops forming. Nicole worked her tongue over the head, savouring the taste, Thelma ran her tongue down his hard length. His breath was ragged, his body starting to stiffen. With a deep guttural groan his hot, salty come squirted into Nicole’s open mouth, a second spurt went into Thelma’s. He stood panting above them. Without thought they kissed each other, passing his come between their mouths, only pulling away to allow him the view of him covering their tongues, dripping from their mouths. Through a hot and messy kiss, nimble fingers found each other eager, thumbs circling each other’s clits, instinctively finding the swollen nub and rubbing eagerly. Nicole broke first and came hard; Thelma wasn’t far behind and only then did they swallow the thick mouthful of come.

Panting, they collapsed on the bed. John Smith was already half dressed by the time they came back down to Earth.

“What happens now? To us.”

Somebody had to ask. It was Thelma.

He paused, his face stern and unmoved.

“Perversions such as yours are a crime. Against the Reich. This is more than a transgression.”

There was uncertainty. His tone shifted quickly.

“I can see that we’ve made progress here today. Another session such as this might be… therapeutic.”

He smirked a little. Though he tried to hide it, it fought at the corner of his mouth.

“Of course, Obergruppenführer,” Nicole replied, “if you think it would… help.

He was fully clothed now. Putting on his coat.

“Good day ladies. I’ll be in touch regarding your, treatment.”

The door closed behind him. They held each other and burst into fits of laughter.

“Fuck!” Nicole said.

“Fuck, indeed.”

How could they possibly refuse another audience with John Smith?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I am entirely done with these three. If you want more please ask, you might just get it!  
Your thoughts and comments are adored and welcomed. I know people are sometimes shy about commenting on smut, please don't be, it keeps me writing!  
Vin x

**Author's Note:**

> Now, do you want to know what John Smith does next?  
Let me know in the comments!


End file.
